New York State of Mind
by zomganonymous
Summary: Steven Hyde left Point Place in 1977 to find excitement in New York City. Jackie Burkhart left in 1982 to pursue a career in fashion. Neither has looked back since... until now. Chapter four finally up!
1. Chapter 1

Yeah, I know, I've been working on New Beginnings for like a year and it's still not done... I'll get around to it, I swear. But I had this new idea, and I wrote the first few chapters and just had to start posting it. I know it sounds cliché and all, but I hope you like it.

* * *

An apparently exhausted man approached the cash register

An apparently exhausted man approached the cash register. "Yeah, uh, I just want a large coffee," he ordered. "Black," he added as he saw the barista open her mouth to tell him about the various options and add-ins Starbucks offered, and to inquire as to whether he wished to enhance his drinking experience with soy milk or sugar-free syrups or whatever other crap the place had come up with lately.

"Will that be all?" the barista asked, smiling. "Or would you like something from our baked goods display, or…"

"No, no. Just the coffee. That's fine," the man assured her. He had been living in New York for thirty years now, and he was still overwhelmed and frustrated whenever he stepped into one of these god-awful coffee shops. As he made his way to the pickup counter to grab his too-hot coffee and get the hell out of there, he heard an over privileged young woman ordering a "venti chai Frappuccino with skim milk and no whipped cream." He shook his head as he heard the price demanded by the barista (over five dollars) and as the woman gladly handed over a platinum credit card. God, things had changed since he'd been that age.

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Hyde. How are you doing this morning?" a perky blonde woman bounced over as he entered the Grooves Records corporate office.

"Peachy," he replied sarcastically to his assistant, taking a sip of the coffee only to have his tongue scalded.

"You know, if you want me to do that Starbucks run for you every morning-" the assistant began, for the third time that week.

"Yes, Lisa, I know. You can do it for me. You've told me. But I'm completely capable of going for coffee myself," Hyde reminded her, as he had every other time she had offered. He knew that he should just let the girl get his coffee – he did pay her to do errands like that, after all – but something about making someone else get his coffee for him when he was perfectly able to do so just seemed obscene.

"Okay, well, if you ever want me to… the offer's on the table," Lisa shrugged. "Anyways, don't forget, you've got to meet with the guy from Rolling Stone today about that band you just signed, and I think MTV wanted to know about doing an exclusive with them, too."

"Tell MTV to stick it up their collective ass," Hyde responded.

"Um, I know I don't have the authority to advise you on your decisions and stuff, but shunning MTV could be really bad for the band. And, well, the label," Lisa reminded him.

Hyde sighed heavily. MTV was, in his opinion, the worst thing to ever happen to music. "Yeah, okay, you're right. Tell John or, well, anyone but me to deal with the MTV people, though. I can't stand any of them."

Lisa scribbled something quickly on the screen of her PalmPilot, then lifted her head to smile up at Hyde. "Will do," she assured him before strolling away, hopefully to inform John that he would be contacting the assholes from MTV.

Hyde shuffled into his office and sat in the fairly uncomfortable wooden chair in the corner, usually reserved for unimportant visitors, and stared out the window at his spectacular view of the New York City skyline. The fact that he was here was incredible.

He had left home at age seventeen with a girl whose name and face he no longer remembered, and probably wouldn't recognize. He had arrived in the Big Apple with almost no money, absolutely nothing of worth to help him get started. He'd thought he had a girlfriend, but in hindsight he realized that placing any trust in someone he barely knew had been incredibly naïve. Truth be told, he could barely remember the first couple of years he had spent in the city. He knew that he had spent most of those two years working odd jobs and spending most of the money he earned on weed – he _did_ recall, however, that the pot here was nowhere near as good as the stuff he'd been able to get his hands on back at home in Wisconsin.

Somehow, at some point between then and now, his father, who happened to own a chain of up-and-coming record stores, had tracked him down. A few months later, his father had died, leaving him to run the company. The next twenty-some-odd years had passed without much excitement; Hyde had expanded the company until Grooves Records had become a household name, then started a record label. He had become a typical corporate asshole, and he was unfortunately all too aware of it.

Hyde stood slowly, stretching, feeling his bones scrape against each other. He couldn't believe that he was getting paid an ungodly amount of money to essentially sit around for most of the day.

* * *

"Hello, Grooves Records. Lisa speaking," Lisa sighed into the phone as she lifted a pile of CDs and set them on a shelf.

"Uh, yeah, hi, can I talk to Hyde?" a somewhat high-pitched male voice spoke nervously on the other end.

Lisa rolled her eyes and reached for her PalmPilot. "May I ask who is calling so I can leave a message for Mr. Hyde?"

"Mr. Hyde?" the caller repeated, apparently surprised. "Uh, yeah, I mean, can you just put him on the phone?"

"Mr. Hyde is in his office. He just got in. He is a very busy man, I hope you understand that I can't simply ask him to drop what he's doing to talk to you. Whoever you are," Lisa informed the caller with a hint of condescension in her voice.

"But this is important, I swear!" the voice on the other end pleaded, the pitch of their voice steadily rising.

"I'm sure it is. Will you _please_ just give me your name? I promise you that Mr. Hyde will get back to you as soon as possible. But I repeat, he is _extremely_ busy at the moment-" Lisa responded, exasperated.

"Who's busy?" Hyde suddenly appeared in the hall, shutting his office door behind him. "Me? Who are you lying to now, Lisa?"

"I have no idea. They refuse to give me their name," Lisa informed him, appearing to be the most disgruntled that Hyde had ever seen her.

"Well, tell them that I'll speak to them if they tell me who the hell they are!" Hyde shrugged.

Lisa rolled her eyes, sure that this course of action was bound to fail. "Mr. Hyde is available now, but he wishes to inform you that he will not speak with an unidentified person."

"That isn't what I said, Lisa," Hyde pointed out.

"Okay, then just tell him it's Eric Forman," the mysterious effeminate voice finally replied.

"It's someone named Eric Forman? I've never heard of him," Lisa shrugged. "Do you want to talk to him, or should I get rid of him, or what?"

Hyde stared at her for a moment. Eric Forman. His best friend from age six to age seventeen. His best friend, who had whisked the only girl he'd ever cared about right out from under him. Who had, regardless, been like a brother to him. Who had probably never forgiven him for leaving Wisconsin and coming to New York, and most likely did not have a pleasant reason for calling.

"Uh, I just remembered I have to do… something," Hyde said suddenly, then turned and walked straight back into his office.

* * *

"Well, he's obviously doing pretty well," Eric said as he hung up the phone in the kitchen of his parents' house. "He's even got a bitchy assistant to cover for him when he doesn't want to talk to people."

"Eric, don't say the b-word in front of the kids," Kitty Forman scolded, placing her wrinkled hands over her four-year-old granddaughter Kathryn's ears. Seventeen-year-old Eliza rolled her eyes.

"Grandma, it's okay, she's going to hear that word someday," Eliza pointed out.

"Well, she doesn't need to hear it now," Kitty responded with authority.

Eliza shrugged. "Whatever," she muttered as she walked through the swinging door into the living room.

"Kathryn, why don't you go join your sister and your grandpa in the living room and watch some nice TV?" Kitty encouraged, handing her favorite grandchild a peanut butter cookie, fresh from the oven. Once the child was out of the room, she turned her attention back to her son. "Eric, you need to speak to him. He would want to know."

"How do you know that? He left thirty years ago. When he was Eliza's age. He probably doesn't remember any of us, or care about us. He's obviously changed, considering that the Hyde we all knew would _never_ have allowed himself to become a big-shot record exec," Eric pointed out.

"Honey," Kitty began, ignoring Eric's wince when she used the childish pet name, "I know you're still bitter about him leaving. We all are. But that doesn't change the fact that he was family to us, and he deserves to know what's going on."

"Well… You know… But…" Eric sputtered. "Well, I don't care!" he finally stated.

"Eric, honey, you're almost 48 years old. You have to stop sulking like this," Kitty reprimanded gently.

"No, I don't," he rebutted, stalking from the room.

Kitty sighed and shook her head, exhausted. She crossed the room to the phone and picked it up, dialing the number Eric had found on the Grooves website. "Hello, this is Kitty Forman. I'd like to speak to Steven Hyde."

* * *

Lisa hit the mute button on her phone. "Jesus Christ!" she swore, irritated to have to deal with some old woman, surely no one important, just ten minutes after the last bozo who called in and refused to give a name. She hit the button again and began speaking. "Yes, I will leave Mr. Hyde a message, and he will respond to you as soon as possible."

"Please, can I speak with him now? It's urgent," the old woman pleaded.

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Hold." She put the woman on hold and entered Hyde's office. "Um, there's a woman on the phone by the name of Kitty Forman. She wants to speak to you. She says it's 'urgent,'" Lisa informed her boss.

Hyde stared at Lisa again. He had spent the last ten minutes trying to figure out why Eric had called him after all these years, not to mention wondering how Eric had found out where to contact him. Now Mrs. Forman was on the line? He couldn't blow her off, he just _couldn't_. After all that she'd done for him back in Wisconsin, that would be wrong. But what news was she calling to deliver? That mystery was what had made him apprehensive about speaking to Eric, and it was no different with Eric's mother.

"Mr. Hyde, should I get rid of her?" Lisa demanded.

"No, no. I'll speak to her," Hyde decided, and picked up the phone on his desk.

* * *

"Hello?" a male voice spoke.

Kitty nearly dropped the phone. "_Steven_?" she asked breathlessly.

"Hi, Mrs. Forman," he greeted her, a hint of nervousness detectable in his voice.

"Oh, Steven, how are you?" Kitty demanded. "Are you eating all right? How is New York? I've always wanted to go there!"

Hyde decided, relieved, that Kitty Forman was a person who simply stood the test of time. After thirty years, she had barely changed, although her voice seemed a bit weaker than he remembered. But she was getting older, surely this was to be expected.

"I'm doing great, Mrs. Forman. New York is a great place," Hyde responded. "How are things back home?"

Kitty was silent for a moment. "Well…" she began. "Well, Steven, it's Donna. She isn't doing so well."

Hyde's heart plummeted. "What are you talking about?"

"She was recently diagnosed with bone cancer," Kitty replied sadly, cutting to the chase.

"But that's almost always fatal," Hyde realized.

"Yes, Steven, we know," Kitty sighed. "We thought you might want to know. Even though you, well, dropped off the face of the earth a few decades ago," she managed a halfhearted chuckle.

"Yeah, uh, thanks for telling me, Mrs. Forman," Hyde responded flatly. "I've got to go. Sorry. Bye." He hung up without waiting to hear if she had anything left to say. He had heard everything important already. "Lisa, I'm taking a few weeks off. Leave of absence. Personal matters."

It was time to finally return home.

* * *

Review!

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to all of those of you who reviewed, it made my day. :)

Hopefully you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

Jackie Burkhart loved being famous. She loved that she was the creator of one of the hottest new labels in the fashion industry, and that she'd had the opportunity to work with some of her heroes. Most of all, she loved that she could buy anything she wanted, and not have to rely on her father to stay out of prison, or on her mother to stay away from Tijuana. She'd been living like this for two and a half decades, but she still managed to wake up every morning and appreciate it. Even if her cook, Geraldo, hadn't chilled her fruit and yogurt parfait to the precise temperature that she had requested. Because Jackie Burkhart was just that kind of person: appreciative, carefree, and forgiving.

Well, maybe she wasn't. Who cared? She could afford to be as cranky and particular as she wanted. She was, after all, Jackie Burkhart.

"Geraldo, the strawberries are still frozen. I told you to make sure they'd thawed _thoroughly_ before serving them!" Jackie complained.

Geraldo yawned as he approached the breakfast nook in Jackie's dining room. "Yes, Ms. Burkhart," he droned.

"Ms. Burkhart? You have a phone call," Jackie's housekeeper announced.

"If it's from Vogue, tell them Tuesday is fine for lunch," Jackie responded wearily.

"No, it's not Vogue, it's-" the housekeeper began.

"If it's not Vogue, then they can call me at the office," Jackie interrupted. "I'm eating my breakfast. Or I would be if these strawberries weren't frozen!" she amended irritably.

"It's a Mrs. Kitty Forman," the housekeeper continued.

Jackie froze. Mrs. Forman was calling? She knew that she'd given the Formans her home phone number in the card she'd sent the past Christmas, as she had every Christmas, but the Formans had never used it. Jackie suspected that this was because she'd never contacted them either, outside of her annual Christmas cards, of course. But why would they start contacting her now, when they hadn't for the past two decades?

"She says it's important," the housekeeper prompted.

"Yes, yes, I'll talk to her, just let me grab a phone," Jackie said, picking up a cordless phone. "Hello?"

"Oh, hello, Jackie!" Mrs. Forman greeted her cheerfully. "No, no, Michael, I need to speak to her. Go play with the dog, or the kids, or something. No, not the super glue… Oh, good lord," Kitty could be heard sighing as she presumably attempted to cover the phone. "Sorry about that, Jackie."

"Michael's there?" Jackie inquired. "How is he?"

"Oh, he's wonderful. He married a girl named Brooke a while back, they've got a son and a daughter," Kitty informed her.

"That's… great," Jackie forced cheerfulness into her voice, despite the fact that she still hadn't completely recovered from her breakup with Michael Kelso, even though many years had passed since it had happened.

"Yes, although he still does have an unhealthy curiosity when it comes to adhesives. Some things never change," Kitty chuckled.

"Yeah," Jackie replied.

"Well, I suppose I should tell you why I've called, shouldn't I?" Kitty said after a moment. Jackie was silent. "Well, Jackie, um… It's – it's about Donna."

Jackie stiffened at the ominous mention of her old best friend, the only person from her past who she still contacted occasionally at times other than the holidays. "What about her? She just e-mailed me a few weeks ago."

"Well, she went to the doctor recently, she was having some odd aches and pains, and, well, she was diagnosed with bone cancer," Kitty said softly.

"What?" Jackie exclaimed. "That's impossible. She would have… she would have told me. It's impossible," she said, her voice suddenly faltering.

"Yes, well..." Kitty replied. "They're saying she doesn't… she doesn't have a long time left."

"Impossible," Jackie said again.

"Well, we thought you should know," Mrs. Forman responded finally.

"Yes. Um, well, thanks for telling me," Jackie sighed dully.

"And Jackie, if you wanted to come home, you're always welcome in our house. You know where we live," Kitty laughed halfheartedly.

"Yeah. Thanks, Mrs. Forman. Bye," Jackie replied. She hung up the phone and handed it back to the housekeeper before starting in on her parfait.

"Ms. Burkhart? Are you all right? I can't help but notice that you haven't touched your food," the housekeeper, Maria, said tentatively.

"Yes, I have," Jackie responded, pushing a frozen strawberry to the side of the crystal bowl and taking a tiny bite of vanilla yogurt.

"What was that phone call about?" Maria asked, pushing a subject that Jackie was not eager to chat about, especially with the help.

"It was nothing, Maria. Now can I please eat my breakfast in peace?" Jackie snapped. "Thank you," she said as the housekeeper whisked away, hopefully to make the bed – a chore Jackie had neglected since the age of five.

Jackie pushed the fruit around the bowl on the table in front of her, mixing it with the yogurt until the colors of the fruit had seeped into the white yogurt and turned it an unappealing, uneven pink and violet shade, rendering the food inedible by Jackie's standards. She stood from her stool in the breakfast nook – one of four, even though Jackie was the only one to ever use the area – and scraped the contents of the bowl into the garbage disposal in her sink. She left the yogurt-coated bowl on the counter for Maria to take care of.

"Maria!" she called. "Maria! I need you to bring me my BlackBerry!"

The housekeeper sighed as she hurried into the room, carrying with her Jackie's organizer. "Here, Ms. Burkhart."

Jackie began punching at the keys and waved Maria away, letting the housekeeper know that she had been dismissed. "Hi, Jena… Could you cancel my appointments for today? And tomorrow, as well? … Yes, I'm fine, I just need to go back home for a couple of days… Yes, if you could arrange a flight for me, that would be great. As soon as possible… Yes, I'm sure that I'm not dying, but thanks for your concern. Call me back when you've got the flight arranged. Thanks. Bye." Jackie sighed, as though speaking on the phone with her assistant had exhausted her to her very core. Now, all she could do was wait.

"Jackie's coming home!" Kitty announced to the crowd that had congregated in her living room.

"She's the one I liked, right?" Red clarified from behind his newspaper.

"Yes, dear," Kitty confirmed, moving to put her hand on Red's shoulder.

"Aw, Mom, did you _have_ to tell her?" Eric groaned at the prospect of having the bothersome little cheerleader back within the same state as him. He had always regarded her as being somewhat like a flea… tiny, annoying, jumpy, and all too hard to get rid of once it was around.

"I'm glad she's coming back. I've missed her. Emails and letters just aren't the same as meeting up face to face," Donna stated, immediately silencing her husband.

"Who's Jackie?" Eliza asked, not glancing up from the nail she was filing intently.

"You'll love her," Donna assured her, smiling.

"You'll hate her," Eric muttered, earning him a smack on the shoulder from his wife.

"You think she's still hot?" Kelso asked curiously.

"Who?" Brooke demanded, walking into the room.

"Jackie," Donna and Eric replied simultaneously.

"Who's Jackie?" Brooke asked, raising an eyebrow at her husband of twenty-seven years.

"My old girlfriend… She was the first person I ever did it with. I almost married her once; man, that would've sucked, right? I mean, come on, she talked _way _too much, it was pretty annoying. But she was hot; if she's still as hot as she used to be, I think I'd do her," Kelso rambled. "I bet she's still rich, too. Damn, maybe I should've married her…"

Everyone in the room stared at Kelso in dumbfounded silence, waiting for Brooke's reaction. Red even lowered his newspaper to watch, revealing the satisfied smirk he always wore when watching someone screw up royally. Brooke simply turned and walked back out.

"You idiot!" Eric finally exclaimed.

"What?!" Kelso demanded defensively. "Whaaat?" he whined as everyone continued to stare at him.

Donna looked as if she wanted to hit him. After all, Brooke _had_ become her best friend over the years. "You just basically told Brooke that you should have married Jackie instead of her because she's hot and rich."

"No!" Kelso responded, pointing a finger at Donna excitedly as though he was sure, without a doubt in the world, that he had found a huge gap in her theory. "I said I should have married Jackie 'cause she's hot and rich. I didn't say that I shouldn't have married Brooke!"

"Uh, were you planning on marrying both of them at the same time, or what?" Eric rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I don't think you can do that, Kelso," Donna pointed out.

"You can in Utah!" Kelso exclaimed. "I think…" He turned to Red and Kitty for confirmation. "Can't you?"

"No," Red snorted.

"Were you dropped on your head?!" Kitty finally demanded.

"We've been over this!" Kelso responded defensively. Kitty threw her hands in the air in defeat and walked back into the kitchen, presumably to pour herself a drink.

"Kelso, you should probably go find Brooke and get this sorted out," Eric suggested as his lifelong friend stood in the middle of the living room, staring around and looking extremely confused.

"Good idea. Maybe I'll buy her a puppy. You think she'd want a puppy?" Kelso knit his eyebrows, thinking. "Well, who cares, 'cause _I_ sure want a puppy." He practically ran across the living room to exit through the front door.

"Good god… He's almost fifty years old, and he still hasn't changed a bit…" Donna sighed.

"Is he, like, special or something?" Eliza piped up from her spot on the floor, where she was leaning up against the infamous Forman living room bar.

"Hard to tell," Eric shrugged.

"We don't think so, but like your dad said… The world may never know," Donna added.

"Whatever…" Eliza rolled her eyes. "He's so weird. I feel so bad for Betsy, I can't even imagine what it would be like having _him_ share my DNA. You guys are bad enough," she stated as she walked out, leaving two insulted parents behind.

"So, did my mom ever tell you that Hyde's coming back, too?" Eric asked after he'd gotten over his daughter's jab.

"Is he? God, I barely remember when he was around…" Donna sighed. "I do remember him hitting on me. He was almost as bad as Kelso."

"Yeah, well…" Eric suddenly found himself pouting.

"Eric, we've been together for, like, thirty years. You don't have to worry about Hyde and Kelso trying to pick me up," Donna teased, kissing her husband on the cheek.

"What do you mean, I'm not allowed to travel with that?" a man was bellowing at a security guard. Jackie Burkhart sighed and checked her favorite Cartier wristwatch. She'd purchased it as a gift to herself when she'd received her first big paycheck in New York, and she'd had to replace the battery at least four times, but she refused to get a new one. It usually kept her on time. But today, with this obnoxious man in line in front of her, she was sure to miss her flight.

"Sir, that is an illegal drug! Of _course_ you aren't allowed to travel with it!" the security guard responded, exasperated, waving a crumpled paper bag in the man's face.

"Look, man, I'm a big-shot record exec, okay? I could buy this airport right out from under you," the man snarled.

"I doubt that," the security guard shot back.

"Will you just arrest him or whatever so I can get through this line and catch my flight?" Jackie interrupted.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the man demanded as he turned to face Jackie. "Wait a minute…" he squinted at her. "You look familiar…"


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! Sorry it took so long for an update... that might happen occasionally, but I'll do my best to keep the story moving. :)

* * *

Jackie racked her brain to try to place the mysterious middle-aged airport delinquent's face. Her eyes darted to the paper bag and the sunglasses that were clipped to his t-shirt. _Not very convincing attire if you're going to pretend to be an executive_, she thought to herself. The sunglasses and black t-shirt sparked her memory. "You used to live in Point Place. You were friends with Michael and Donna and Eric."

"You're the obnoxious one who used to date Kelso!" the man, whose name she recalled to be Hyde, remembered irritably. He couldn't run into one of his friends from Wisconsin. Of course not. He had to run into the girl who he and his friends had long regarded as the spawn of Satan.

"Okay, you two can have your little reunion later," the security guard interrupted. "Sir, I'm going to need you to…"

"Oh, just confiscate the stuff and let him move on so that I can get through this line!" Jackie ordered impatiently.

"So now that you know who I am you're suggesting that he just take my stash, rather than put me away?" Hyde raised an eyebrow.

"Well, yes. I feel bad for you. I know that you've had a very hard, unfortunate life, and I don't think that adding to your police record would help get you back on your feet," Jackie said primly.

"Uh, I don't have a police record. And I'm doing fine without you trying to save me from the cops. I run Grooves Records," Hyde responded irritably.

Jackie burst out laughing. "You're high, aren't you?"

"No, actually, I was saving that for the plane ride," Hyde said sarcastically.

The security guard sighed heavily. "Just get the hell out of here, sir, I'm sick of listening to the two of you bicker."

"Alright," Hyde shrugged. "Can I have that back?" He reached for the paper bag that the guard was still clutching in his fat hand. The guard glared at him. "I'll take that as a no…" Hyde nodded and walked away quickly, hoping to lose Jackie, who had apparently passed through security without issue. Thankfully, she didn't seem to be following him. Strange. From what Hyde remembered, when Jackie was alone she latched on to anyone she'd ever met, no matter who it was, and was impossible to shake. Whatever. As long as Hyde didn't have a tagalong, he was happy.

* * *

"Wow, my parents suck," Betsy Kelso sighed, stomping into Eliza Forman's room, which had formerly belonged to Eliza's mother, Donna.

"Your dad is a freak," Eliza agreed, setting down her copy of Seventeen magazine. "But Brooke is alright, isn't she?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Betsy shrugged, sitting down on Eliza's bed. "It's my dad's fault, anyways."

Eliza rolled her eyes. "Spit it out, already, Betsy. What's going on?"

"Well, apparently, one of my dad's ex-girlfriends is coming home to see your mom, and when he found out-" Betsy began.

"He made an ass of himself in front of your mom? Yeah, I was there for that. It must've been pretty rough on Brooke, huh?" Eliza grimaced.

"She just flipped a shit. Again," Betsy grumbled. "That's why I'm here. I can't deal with the two of them anymore. I mean, even though I know it's my dad's fault for being a jackass, I can't help but notice that my mom's being pretty obnoxious."

"Maybe you could talk to my mom?" Eliza suggested. "I know that sounds stupid, but I've met her parents, and this may sound impossible, but I'm pretty sure they're even worse than yours."

"Worse than my mom and dad? I doubt that," Betsy rolled her eyes.

"Uh, Bets? They were nudists when my mom was our age, and they had nudist parties. In this house. While Mom was _home_," Eliza stated, pausing to watch her friend shudder with disgust before continuing. "Grandma rarely, if ever, wears a bra, and Grandpa wears plaid pants all the time. In _public_! They're definitely weird," Eliza assured her. "Plus they had all those stupid marriage problems and stuff."

Betsy shrugged. "Yeah, but did your grandpa ever have to go to the ER because he ended up with his finger Superglued to the inside of his nose?"

Eliza shuddered. That strange fascination with glue _and_ a nose-picking habit? "No… I'm pretty sure that's just your dad."

* * *

"So has anyone managed to get in touch with Fez yet?" Donna asked, sitting in one of the Formans' ancient blue chairs in the kitchen.

"No. Kelso said that the last thing he heard, Fez was going back to his home country to try and lead a revolution, or something. He also said that was during a little two-person circle, though, so he's not really sure," Eric rolled his eyes. "And if that _is _where he went…"

"Then we have no idea where he is because he never did tell anyone where the hell he came from," Donna sighed, frustrated. "Damn."

"Besides, if he tried to lead a revolution, he's probably dead anyways," Eric pointed out. "He's not exactly the warrior type."

"Now, Eric, you shouldn't always be so negative," Kitty scolded, pulling a batch of breaded mozzarella sticks out of the oven. The prospective influx of visitors was prompting her to bake like mad so that there would be a surplus of food available.

"Kitty, do you remember the foreign kid at all? Eric's right," Red said pessimistically, reaching for the pan.

Kitty slapped her husband's hand away. "Those are still hot, and they're bad for your cholesterol." Red rolled his eyes.

"I'm right?" Eric asked in surprise. "Really?"

Red ignored his son. "Kitty, I don't give a damn about my cholesterol. I'm eighty-two years old, I'll probably kick the bucket tomorrow whether I eat that thing or not."

"I'm right?" Eric asked again.

"Red, you're not going to die tomorrow," Kitty countered. "If you would just follow the advice Dr. Johnson is always giving you, he says you could live to be a hundred and twenty!"

"Wait, I'm right?" Eric asked a third time.

"Shut up," Red said, not bothering to turn and face his son when he said it. After this brief interaction with Eric, he turned his attention back to his wife. "Dr. Johnson can go to hell, he doesn't know anything. I don't want to live to be a hundred and twenty, I just want some damn cheese!"

"Well, fine, Red, throw away your health for a mozzarella stick. They're not _that_ good," Kitty snapped.

"You know, Dad, if you die because you make bad choices, I'm not paying for your funeral. When it comes to your health, you really need to buckle down," Eric piped up authoritatively.

"Shut up, Eric," Red and Kitty said simultaneously.

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me," Hyde muttered under his breath as he looked at his seat and saw who was seated across the aisle, deeply absorbed in an issue of French Vogue.

Jackie looked up from her magazine when she heard someone tossing their belongings into the overhead compartment. "You again?" she sighed.

"Me again," he confirmed. "I'm surprised, I thought Jackie Burkhart would travel first class."

"Yeah, well, this is the only seat I could get at the last minute," she said defensively. "I thought the head honcho of Grooves Records would travel first class," she added sarcastically.

"I don't like traveling first class. There's never anyone worth being around up there, just a bunch of corporate morons and socialites who blindly worship capitalism," Hyde reminded her.

"Excuse me, I travel first class," Jackie retorted.

"My point exactly," Hyde said smoothly.

"Ass," Jackie muttered under her breath, returning to her magazine.

"Well hi there," a greasy-looking man bared his yellow teeth in a grin directed towards Jackie. "Looks like we'll be sitting together. Lucky me, huh?" the man chuckled.

"Um, in your dreams," Jackie said, wrinkling her nose.

The man pulled out his ticket. "36B. That's next to you, m'dear," he smiled. "I'm Greg," he added, tossing his stained carry-on bag into the overhead compartment.

"Ew, sit next to him, or something," Jackie pointed at Hyde. "You'd get on great."

"But that wouldn't lead to nothin' fun in the bathroom in the back of the plane," Greg winked.

"You are disgusting!" Jackie screeched, glancing around to look for a flight attendant who could get rid of the pig.

Hyde watched the exchange like a tennis match, his eyes flashing from Jackie to Greg and back again. As much as Jackie revolted him, he was even more repulsed by the man's behavior. And as curious as he was to see just how long it would take before Jackie either slapped the man or delivered a swift kick in the shins, Hyde felt that it would be kinder to everyone involved to avoid violence. That damn conscience was kicking in and ruining a potentially entertaining situation yet again. "Jackie, would you mind if I swapped seats with Greg here?"

Jackie's eyes widened in surprise. From what she knew of him, Hyde was the last person she would have expected to come to her rescue… and he was also the last person she would have wanted to spend hours in close proximity to on a plane. At least, until she met Greg. Which man was the lesser of two evils? "Sure. Um, Greg, would you be a dear and switch with him?" Jackie fixed the dirty-looking man with her sweetest smile. As unappealing the prospect of sitting with him was, at least Hyde appeared to have showered before boarding the plane.

"No, that's my seat, and I'm sittin' there," Greg's perverted grin immediately slid off his face.

"Maybe Benjamin Franklin would change your mind?" Jackie suggested, feeling uncomfortably desperate as she pulled out her Louis Vuitton wallet and from there grabbed a 100 bill.

Greg shrugged, plucked the bill from between Jackie's immaculately manicured fingers, and sat in Hyde's vacated seat. Hyde sat in 36B, the window seat that was situated right next to Jackie. He sighed. This was going to be a long flight.

* * *

"Is Jackie here yet?" Kelso asked eagerly, walking through the sliding glass door into the Forman house, without knocking first, of course.

"No, Michael, she probably won't be here for a few hours," Kitty informed him.

"Kelso, you're married, why are you so excited to see Jackie?" Donna demanded, exasperated. She had a feeling that Kelso's stupidity would lead to a feud between Brooke and Jackie, and she had no desire to deal with catfighting middle-aged women when she was supposed to be on her deathbed.

"Because being a football coach does _not_ pay well, and neither does Brooke's librarian job, but I promised Betsy a new car for her birthday this year," Kelso shrugged. "I figured I could _persuade_ Jackie to help me out on that one," he winked. "You know what I mean, right? Like, I'd just have to-"

"Shut up, Kelso," Eric said flatly. "You're pissing Donna off."

"If you turn my pity party into some catfight, you better believe I'll kick your ass," Donna said icily, glaring at her thickheaded lifelong friend.

"Eric, don't say 'piss.' Donna, don't say 'ass.' And Michael… Well, Michael, honey, I think you'd probably better just leave before someone gets hurt," Kitty said, herding Kelso back out the way he'd come.

"Seriously, if he makes this all about _him_, I will kill him if it's the last thing I do," Donna vowed darkly.

"Hey, everybody, Laurie's here!" Kelso called joyfully.

Eric, Donna, and Kitty froze.

"Oh, damn," Kitty sighed.

* * *

Review!

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Wow, it's been a while. For whatever reason, inspiration struck recently, and I felt compelled to write. So hopefully, someone will read? Sorry for taking... what was it? Six months or so? D:

Anyways, for those of you still with us, thanks for your infinite supplies of patience. And for those of you who are new to this story, welcome aboard.

--

"Hi," Laurie said unenthusiastically as she walked into the house, a cigarette between her fingers, smelling of beer and cheap perfume.

"Laurie, put that thing out," Kitty ordered.

"Yeah, right, Mom," Laurie scoffed, taking a drag from the cigarette. "They slow down the aging process."

Kitty raised an eyebrow, surveying her daughter's creased face. "I can see that. Now either put it out or go somewhere else with it. I haven't had a smoke in thirty years, but that doesn't mean I'm not tempted from time to time."

Laurie shoved the cigarette at her mother. "Come on, Mom, maybe it'll help you lose a few pounds. They're what keep me thin."

"Laurie, just leave," Eric sighed.

"That all you got, Eric?" Laurie sneered. She put on a babyish voice. "_Laurie, just leave_."

"Laurie!" Red emerged from the living room, a rare smile spreading across his face.

"Daddy!" Laurie put her cigarette out and grinned, going to give her elderly father a hug. Kitty rolled her eyes.

"How are you, sweetheart?" Red asked, his smile faltering as he took in his daughter's yellowed teeth and wrinkled skin.

"Better than ever, Daddy!" Laurie said enthusiastically. "And guess what?"

"What?" Red responded, suddenly wary.

"Heather is going to have a baby!" Laurie clapped excitedly.

"Who's Heather?" Eric inquired.

Laurie glared at her brother. "My daughter."

"Oh, so she's, what, thirteen? Fourteen?" Eric asked innocently. When Laurie continued to look daggers at him, not saying a word, he raised an eyebrow. "She's _twelve_? God, Laurie, even you were still a virgin at twelve."

"Shut up, Eric," Red glared at his son.

"She's _fifteen_," Laurie insisted.

"Oh, that's just _so_ much better," Eric said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Ew, what's her name?" Eliza demanded, wandering into the kitchen to see what was going on, Betsy close behind.

"Heather," Laurie replied. "Who're you?"

"Heather _what_?" Eliza rolled her eyes.

"Roberts," Laurie responded, eliciting an 'ew' from Betsy. "Who the hell are you?"

"Who the hell are _you_?" Eliza shot back.

Laurie jabbed a bony finger towards Eric. "His big sister."

"Uh, okay," Eliza raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm his kid. So why have I never met you before?"

"Because she's the devil," Eric muttered, causing Eliza to roll her eyes.

"Whatever," Eliza said, walking back out of the kitchen with Betsy. As they left, the adults could hear Betsy groan, "Ew, are you seriously related to Heather Roberts?"

"What's wrong with Heather?" Laurie yelled after them. "Bitches," she muttered.

"Don't call my daughter a bitch," Donna retorted, breaking her silence.

"Donna, Eliza _is_ a bitch. She takes after you a little bit in that department," Eric pointed out.

Donna glowered at him. "What are you saying, Eric?"

"Trouble in paradise?" Laurie smirked. Her brother and his wife ignored her.

"N-nothing. You're not a bitch now. You just used to be, like when you were Eliza's age. Remember the whole promise ring thing?" Eric reminded her.

"Eric, the reason that all happened was because you were being an asshole about the ring," Donna pointed out.

"Yeah, well…" Eric began to retort, pointing his finger at Donna, then, with no comeback forming, he turned to Laurie. "Laurie's daughter's a whore!"

"She is _not_!" Laurie stomped her foot.

"Who's Mr. Roberts, Laurie?" Kitty inquired warily.

"Huh?"

"You said your daughter's name is Heather Roberts. Where does the 'Roberts' part of that come from?" Kitty asked again.

"To be honest, I don't even remember," Laurie shrugged. "I was pretty hopped up on painkillers when we did the whole birth certificate thing."

"Oh, good lord," Kitty muttered, heading out of the kitchen, most likely in the direction of the bar.

"See what you did to your mother?" Red pointed irritably at Eric.

"What?!" Eric demanded. "That was all Laurie!"

"Don't try to blame this on your sister! You'd think you would have matured by now," Red commented as he chased after his wife.

"Damn, Laurie, just leave," Eric said, plopping into a chair. "Why are you here anyways?"

"Can't pay my Visa bill this month," Laurie shrugged. "Don't tell Mom and Dad yet, I have to warm them up first."

"Laurie, if you don't leave right now, I'm going to kick your ass," Donna said calmly.

"Yeah, right," Laurie rolled her eyes.

Donna raised her fists and stepped toward Laurie.

"All right, all right!" Laurie stepped backwards, towards the door. "I'm gone."

"She'll be back," Eric commented once his sister had left. "Just like the Terminator."

--

"Drinks?" an overly energetic blonde flight attendant bounced up to Jackie and Hyde. "We carry all Pepsi products, including Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, Mountain Dew-"

"No, thank you," Jackie dismissed her, wanting to return to her French _Vogue_.

"And you, sir?" the attendant asked.

"No, thanks," Hyde said without so much as glancing at the woman.

"Are you sure? Nothing?" the attendant flashed a particularly bright smile.

"Yeah, really, I'm good," Hyde muttered, preoccupied by the imagination of the reception that awaited him in Point Place. The woman pouted and turned across the aisle to take Greg's drink order.

"She was just full-on flirting with you," Jackie giggled. "That was hilarious. Did you see her face when she figured out you didn't give a crap?"

"No, Jackie, I didn't. Unlike you, I don't have a daily quota of people to humiliate," Hyde responded less indignantly than Jackie had hoped he might.

"I didn't humiliate her!" Jackie retorted. "She did that to herself."

"Okay, let me rephrase. I, unlike you, don't feed off of other people's humiliation to keep alive."

"I _eat_! Don't believe everything you read, Steven Hyde," Jackie warned.

"What?" Hyde asked in genuine confusion. "Oh," he said, making a connection. "I'm not referencing People magazine or whatever the hell everyone uses to stalk famous people these days-"

"Perez Hilton," Jackie clarified.

Hyde ignored her interjection and kept talking. "I'm just using a stupid metaphor or whatever it's called."

"Of course you were," Jackie said skeptically. "So…" She searched for a new topic to make smalltalk about. "Have you been back to Point Place? Since last time I saw you, I mean?"

"Nope. Hadn't even talked to anyone until today," Hyde responded. "You?" _Damn it_, he swore mentally. He hadn't meant to invite her to keep chattering.

"Not in like twenty years. I've exchanged Christmas cards with everyone, and I email Donna all the time, but it'll be really different to actually go back there," Jackie sighed.

"You seen Donna recently?" Hyde asked casually.

"She came down to New York for her daughter Eliza's sixteenth birthday about a year and a half ago, but I haven't seen her since… She sends pictures every so often with her emails, though," Jackie shrugged.

_Her _daughter_ Eliza. Her now-seventeen-year-old daughter Eliza. So Forman actually tied Donna down for the long haul… Good for him_, Hyde thought. If they had been together that long, maybe Forman hadn't just been being an asshole when he snaked Donna from him. Maybe he'd actually given a damn. _Interesting development_, Hyde thought cynically.

"Eliza sounded really great. I didn't actually get a chance to meet her while she and Donna were in town, but I guess I'll see her soon enough. Donna and Eric have another daughter, too. Kathryn. She's four, and she's got Donna's red hair. She's adorable, Donna sent me her school pictures a couple of weeks ago," Jackie rambled, sounding slightly jealous.

"You have any kids?" Hyde asked.

Jackie sighed. "No. I always kind of wanted some, but I'm so busy, so I never really have time to date."

"Strange, I always saw Jackie Burkhart as getting married at twenty-two after buying her way through Yale and living happily ever after as a trophy wife and stay-at-home-mom to two perfect children," Hyde shrugged. "Probably a stupid little cheerleader and an asshole soccer player, or something."

"Yeah, me too," Jackie replied, not even stopping to be offended at his disparaging comments. "What about you? Do you have a family?"

"Yeah, actually, I do. I'm married to a great interior designer. We've got two kids, a daughter named Tinsel and a son named Trig, and I teach their Sunday school class every weekend. In our family, spiritual growth is very important," Hyde said, appearing completely serious.

Jackie raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, okay. I don't care if you got rich, there's no way you'd ever teach a Sunday school class. Or name a kid Trig. God, even _I_ would never consider naming a kid Trig. Where did you even get that?"

Hyde shrugged. "Yeah, and I'd never marry an interior designer."

"True," Jackie conceded before pressing on. "Any nasty divorces? All you music people have scary past relationship stories."

"No," Hyde said simply. "I don't have time. Never really have. I was so fucking wasted for the first few years I was in the city, the only thing I remember is trying to hunt down Lou Reed. I figured he'd think I was pretty cool. Never did find him, though. And after that wound down, I ended up in charge of Grooves and I didn't have any time for the relationship-y stuff, you know?"

"Yeah… You know, it's so funny, the only real serious relationship I've ever had was with stupid Michael Kelso," Jackie laughed, but not in an amused manner. The laughter had a sad edge to it.

"Kelso. Man, he was a character. You talked to him since you left?" Hyde asked. "Or any of them?" he added as an afterthought, remembering Eric's existence.

"Not really. Donna sort of speaks for Eric in some of her e-mails, but that's about it. And I haven't talked to Michael at all… I did hear he got married, though," Jackie shrugged.

"Kelso, married?" Hyde smirked. "Never saw that happening."

"Yeah. Me either," Jackie responded. _Except for to me_, she thought bitterly, finding it absurd that she couldn't let go of him, even after decades had passed. She decided to feign sleep to avoid Hyde and his stupid remarks for the remainder of the 2-hour flight.

--

"Someone's at the door," Eliza called lazily from her spot on Red's favorite old pea-soup-colored chair. With Red having a sandwich in the kitchen, she apparently thought it safe to steal his traditional seat.

"Get out of your grandfather's chair," Donna warned as she followed Eric and Kitty, who appeared to be racing to see who would win the opportunity to answer the front door, upon which someone was pounding incessantly.

"Ha!" a triumphant smile spread across Kitty's wrinkled, yet still youthful face. "Eric, honey, you need to work out more; your old mother shouldn't be able to beat you in a race."

"We weren't racing!" Eric protested as his elderly mother pulled the door open.

With that simple action, the Point Place clan found themselves face-to-face with Jackie Burkhart and Steven Hyde for the first time in decades.


End file.
